


Ashes

by monims



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:12:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monims/pseuds/monims
Summary: Set after the events in Empire Strikes back. Shocked by Darth Vader's revelation of his parentage, Luke makes a faithful leap that leads to his early death. Unsettled by his sons death, the dark lord of the sith, is haunted by visions of his long forgotten past, and an uncertain future. Or is he...?





	Ashes

_Blood._

It was everywhere. Splattered onto the pale grey walls. Decorating the floor in an erratic pattern of footprints that stained the white tiles red. Coating the medical equipment that lay abandoned where it had been thrown. Abandoned in a rush.

Standing in a corner, a pair of nurses twitched uneasily, doing their best to avoid looking down at the pale corpse of the doctor, whose body lay sprawled motionless by Vader’s feet. But Vader no longer had eyes for them. He stood silently, watching the large crimson puddle that had formed by the foot of the single bunk that occupied the small room. The sight of blood didn’t bother him, had never bothered him. But… that stain. Still liquid, barely starting to coagulate at the edges, drew his eyes to it like a tractor beam, holding him captivated.

Behind him someone drew a nervous breath. A loud sound in the eerie silence. It faded quickly. As if its creator knew the danger of making a sound in that moment, even something as timid as a breath. Vader did not turn around. He did not need to see his Stormtroopers, to sense their uneasiness. It crackled everywhere around him. Of the walls. Bouncing back at him. Into him.

“Leave. “He spoke the command quietly, his eyes still fixed on the bloody stain. The snap of booted feet was his only answer, briefly breaking the silence. But then they were gone, closing the door behind them, and only the silence remained. Nothing more. Besides the blood that was.

That, and the body. The _other_ body.

Strangely reluctant, Vader at last lifted his eyes to look directly at it. Dressed in pale clothing, it lay sprawled across the bed, one arm at an odd angle, hiding the missing hand from view. More blood coated its tan coloured jacket red, staining the bedding beneath. Though the trickling stream from the body had long since ceased flowing. Just as the heart that had once pumped it, had long since ceased beating.

To avoid stepping in the dark red puddle Vader halted at a short distance from the cot. Despite the swelling and the bruises forming on his cheeks, the boy had a pleasant face, an honest one. A young face. Though exactly how young, Vader would not dwell on. The boy’s dirty blond hair clung to his skull, its strands encrusted with dried blood. Vacant blue eyes stared aimlessly up at the ceiling, Sightless and empty, they did not blink. Regardless, Vader stretched out with his senses probing the still figure gently with the force. Though why he had bothered, he couldn’t say. As expected only nothingness greeted him there. No flicker of spirit remained.  It was dead flesh.

Just dead flesh.

A display above the bed blinked in a rapid sequence.  A large red hand print was smeared across it, making the light glow pale red instead of white. The handprint was the doctor’s, though the blood most certainly belonged to the boy. The doctor had met–if not a less permanent end– a less bloody one, for his failures.

But what did that matter now? The boy was just as dead. Vader shifted on his feet, feeling a sudden surge of agitation. But it wasn’t like he had _wanted_ the child to die, now was it? How could he have? Until recently he hadn’t even known he _had_ a son. Sneering he hissed silently, curling his hand into a fist, his metallic knuckles cracking.  And he knew whose fault _that_ was. Whose fault the boy’s death truly was. 

_Obi Wan._

_He_ was the one that had done this _. He_ was the one that was truly to blame. If his old master wasn’t already dead, Vader would have killed him again for this.  Slowly. Piece by piece. As Obi Wan had once done him. Then Vader would have left him behind to burn! To a slow, and agonising death. Left him to feel his skin peel off, and crack, his insides burn, and–

Vader stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks with a harsh breath that echoed loudly within his mask. No, he would not go back there again. None of that mattered anymore. It was done. Over. Long ago. Yet… once again, Obi Wan had taken what rightfully belonged to Vader, then he had poisoned the boy against him, his own _father!_ Just like he had once poisoned her…

_Her._

Some of Vader’s fury abruptly left him. Reluctantly his eyes flickered back to his son. For an instant he imagined blue eyes, like his own staring up at him accusingly. Yet the curve of the boy’s cheek, the small stature, that was all _her._ Dead for years. Yet somehow… here she lay. Only to die again.

Now.

Without thinking, he stretched out one gloved hand, and gently closed the boy’s vacant eyes. Though his touch didn’t linger long. Retracting his fingers as soon as the job was done, he abruptly took a step back, letting his arm drop. Then he spun on his heels and headed for the door.

A single Stormtrooper stood outside in the long corridor waiting for him.

“Dispose of it,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” the trooper replied instantly.  

But Vader barely noticed. Something flickered at the edges of his awareness, bright and pulsating. He cast a glance over his left shoulder, and for an instance he thought he saw a boy. Standing upright behind the cot, head bent he stared down at the body lying limply on the cot.

Vader had taken a single step back towards the door before he stopped himself. Halting he shook his head, blinking. When he looked up again the phantom was gone. There was nothing there. There never had been. It had just been a trick of the light. An illusion.

He frowned, drawing a deep breath. Perhaps his mask had been damaged in the skirmish and needed repair. His air supply compromised. He would have to check on that later. He began to turn away again, when he noticed the trail of bloody footprints he had left in his wake. Without realizing it he had stepped in the bloody puddle, and now his boots were coated with it. He lips curled, and he suppressed a sudden urge to wipe them on the floor.

Turning back to the trooper, he hissed through his clenched teeth, nostrils flaring. “Have someone clean up this mess. _Immediately_.” The troopers helmed bobbed up and down, but without waiting for further reply, Vader turned and strode down the corridor. And this time, he did not look back.

* * *

 

He should not have come. Vader realized that the moment he stepped inside the doorway of the cramped garbage depot. But once set on his course he never faltered. So, he remained where he stood, waiting. Two janitors wearing helmets with large dark visors, had just finished loading the body into the incinerator, and the door snapped shut with a loud smack, as in unison they turned to face him, watching him expectantly. Their eyes shadowed by their visors and the surrounding gloom. No doubt as surprised by his presence in this gloomy pit, as he was in finding himself here. Vader tilted his head sharply in the direction of the exit. Silently they obeyed his unspoken command and trailed from the room.

Alone at last, Vader slowly crossed the narrow space, feeling large and cumbersome for the first time in years.

The large incinerator took up the entirety of the far wall. Droid parts and other refuse lay piled up in heaps along the short walls. Ignoring the rubbish, he grabbed the lever by the small door. But found himself hesitating when he spotted the unmoving figure laid out inside, visible even through the sooth and grime coating the glass panel.

Suddenly an old emotion tugged inside of him. Deep and unfamiliar. Nearly forgotten. But he quickly shrugged it off. Pure nonsense. That was what it was. As much nonsense as what had driven him to come here in the first place. The boy was dead. He had no value to Vader now. No more so than the discarded parts of droids that lay scattered across the floor. Useless and broken.

Tightening his grip on the lever he pulled with a hard tug, releasing the greedy flames that instantly began to consume his son’s flesh.  

Letting go he took a step back. His breathing echoed loudly in his ears, his respirator hissing louder than the flames. But for once, he was glad of the accursed mask. So, he couldn’t smell the putrid fumes of scorched flesh. Silently he stood in the dark red glow, watching the flickering flames dance. He stood there until there was nothing left of his son, his child, but a pile of ash. A dark lump of dust. Of nothing. Another piece of _her_ he had destroyed. Only then did he turn around and leave. Walking away from the still hungry flames.  For by now, he had nothing left for them to consume.

Back in his quarters, the walls of his mediation chamber fell silently around him. Removing his mask, Vader ran a skeletal hand across his bald head. The imprint of his large scar felt rough even to his mechanical fingers. With a flick of his hand, he turned off the light, and stared blindly into the empty darkness. He could still see them there. The flames. Feel them lick against his skin. Taking. Devouring. Consuming. Him.

_His son._

The strange tight feeling low in his gut returned full force. He squeezed his eyes shut to the sensation. Had he known earlier, he _would_ have convinced the child to join him. And together they would have been unstoppable, too strong to ever be devoured by the flames. Strong enough to defeat the Emperor. _Together._

His mechanical fingers dug painfully into his skull, scraping against his tightly pulled skin. But that could never be. His son had chosen death over him. His young face filled with horror, utter revulsion at Vader’s revelation. Vader tightened his grip as his head began to throb violently, trying to drown out the image of the mangled remains of a broken boy. A dead boy. Two boys in fact. One he had never known, and one he had tried his hardest to forget. One that so long ago, had known hope.

Feeling weary suddenly, he closed his eyes.  For a moment or hours, he could not say. But then it came, a quiet almost inaudible whisper in his ear. Distant yet close.

_“Remember.”_

Vader snapped his eyes open, all senses alert in an instant, his grip tight on the edges of his seat.  Only to find that the world around him had shifted.  The upper half of his meditation chamber had vanished, and high above him lay only an open sky. Yet it was unlike any sky he had ever seen. Pitch black, with not a single star in sight. The steps of his dome lead down onto a desolate landscape, covered in a thick coating of the palest snow.  Vader tensed, probing with his senses, only to be met with nothing. The quiet hum of life from the nearby crew of the Executor was gone. He was alone. Well and truly alone.

He rose to his feet, the cold frigid air piercing his lungs, making his breath come out in white frosty puffs. Yet it felt easy to breathe. Normal. Nonetheless he donned the mask and the helmet. Illusion, dream, or whatever this was, he didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust that sooner or later, like they always did, his lungs would falter.

Fastening his cloak and pulling on his gloves, he descended the few steps down onto the ground, the snow crunching beneath his booted feet. The light prickled at his awareness again, somewhere behind him. He spun around, fast enough to send snow flying, only to find the rest of his dome had vanished into thin air. Instead, standing in its place stood a boy. Age nine or eight. Dressed in simple desert garb, the boy didn’t shiver, apparently indifferent to the biting cold.

Crystalline blue eyes, shimmering like the twinkling white snow met Vader gaze. Vader sucked in a breath as the boy peered at him with timeless eyes as old as the stars missing in the sky, peered up at him from within his _own_ face.

“What _are_ you?” he sneered down at it. The sound of his booming voice sounded strange in the unnatural silence, as it echoed back to him from across the icy plains.

 _What. What. You. You. You._ _Are._

The boy with his face began to speak, though not out loud, but as a silent whisper barely audible within Vader’s mind. A whisper of a long-forgotten voice.

“ _The light_.”

Vader scoffed. “What light?” he replied, with as much disdain as he felt for the flimsy pathetic creature standing before him. This pitiful echo of what once was.

The boy cocked his head, staring up at him thoughtfully with all seeing eyes, the voice patient and calm within Vader mind. As if Vader was the child, and the boy the adult.

 “ _Yours.”_

Before Vader could retort to that absurd notion, the apparition vanished, like it had never been. Not even small footsteps in the snow, marked the location where the boy had once stood.

Vader gritted his teeth in frustration, just as the boy reappeared at a distance ahead.  There was nothing left to do, but to follow the vision where it wished to lead him.  Even though there were no stars, no moons, the snow shone with a silver light of its own, illuminating the path ahead. And now far off in the distance, past where the boy had reappeared, Vader spotted a cluster of trees. The only signs of vegetation in the otherwise bleak, deserted landscape.

His boots made deep indentations in the crunching snow as he walked. But he had no feet or hands to feel with. The wind pulled at his cape, but he felt no chill. In fact, he felt nothing at all. Even anger and self-loathing slipped through his fingers. His thoughts just kept returning to the boy. To his son. _Her_ son.

_Theirs._

Vader increased his pace, the snow scattering before him as he walked. “Where are we?” he asked impatiently when he caught up with the quiet apparition. But the young child said nothing, just kept moving determinedly towards the trees. Angry Vader tried to grab the boy with the force, but it felt all wrong. Abruptly he stopped walking. It felt unreachable. He who’s raw power was rivalled by no one, was cut off. Disconnected.

“What have you done to me?” he snarled, rushing forward. Lifting the boy up by the neck of his tunic, he shook him harshly. But there was no fear in those familiar blue eyes, only resignation.

 _“All that is here, is of your own doing,”_ the boy replied quietly, the voice in Vader’s head, sounding far older, then the young face would imply.

Angrily he dropped the boy back down into the snow, unnerved by those eyes. Eyes he knew was his own. The same eyes he had given his son. He pushed the thought away. The boy’s death had been unfortunate, nothing more. It did not matter beyond the potential lost. He stared down at his black fingers, curling them into a fist. Vengeance once again slipped from his grip.

Staggering the boy struggled to his feet. Though he still made no footprint in the snow, left no indentation where he had fallen, he now seemed able to feel the cold. His thin desert garb offering feeble protection against the icy chill. Shivering he hugged his small body, as he walked on head bent. But when they reached the cluster of tall trees, once again he vanished.

Vader looked around in annoyance. Ahead of his own boot print he spotted another, much smaller footprint. It was too large to belong to the boy, even if he had left a print. Besides the boy, it was the first signs of life he had seen. Next to it was a larger, deeper footprint, its gait clearly unsteady, as if hunching or leaning on someone. A trail of blood followed the pair, creating a path of crimson drops in the pure white snow.

Not knowing what else to do, Vader followed the trail, in amongst the tall trees. But there was no one there, no sound of any other living creature. Yet still Vader kept on walking. Halting only as a soft voice cut through the piercing cold night air. It was a woman’s voice, gentle and comforting, making soft shushing sounds, like a mother when comforting a young child.

Vader followed the mournful sound past the trunk of a massive tree, where he spotted her, sitting on her knees in the snow. Dressed in white, she cradled, not a child in her arms, but the head of a fully-grown man. The man didn’t move but lay limply in her lap. Her long grey hair hung loosely about her shoulders, shimmering in the pale light from the snow like silver waves. As he watched she began to sing softly. An ancient lullaby. A gentle croon that rose above the quiet of the starless night.

The sad, melancholy melody, this lament of pure grief, made him pause. Although her voice made no loud echo as his own voice had done, within him it resonated, and grew, echoing with his own deeply buried grief. Without thinking he took another step forward, pushing a branch of a nearby tree out of his way as he moved closer, tugged by some unseen force.

All too soon the song hit a crescendo, before it faltered, ending in a silent heaving sob, as the woman fell forward, hunched. Though his armour protected him from the icy cold, his skin prickled. For some unknown reason, he felt like he should _know_ her. He felt it down to his very core, deep down into the forgotten places.

Oblivious to him watching, the old woman began to rock back and forth, stroking through the young man’s thick black hair with trembling fingers. Old and veiny hands. Worn by the passage of time, by bone shattering grief.

“Shush,” she crooned, brushing dark strands of hair away from the man’s face, exposing a ragged ugly scar across his cheek. “I am sorry, I am so sorry,” she repeated, as she continued to rock. “I should have been there. I should have done something! Anything. Please forgive me. I _should_ have been there.”

Something inside Vader tightened at her desperate words. The crushing sensation almost like pain.

The old woman kept pleading, but the young man did not stir no matter how ardently the she pleaded. Vader had seen enough death, to know he would never stir again. Large puffy flakes of snow had begun to fall from the clear cloudless sky. Appearing out of nothing, they fell, creating a white halo in the woman’s thick hair. The large flakes covered the man’s dark clothing with specks of white. But as soon as they fell, they melted, instantly devoured by the dark.

Not long dead then, Vader thought. Not if he was still warm.

The snow just below the man was stained red, a pool of blood slowly spreading through the snow. Vader eyed it, for some reason oddly disturbed by its presence. It seemed to grow endlessly, spreading, until it stretched outwards, contaminating the snow beneath Vader’s boots. He took a step back. Staring as tendrils of blood moved towards him, followed him, as if it somehow knew him. Knew he was there.

The woman’s sobbing breath created white puffs of cold smoke. The boy reappeared behind her, laying a small comforting hand on her frail shoulders, raw grief straining his young features. His features oddly human now, no longer timeless or eternal. Lifting his head, he levelled his gaze at Vader, his small voice echoing inside Vader’s skull like an accusation, though the boy’s lips didn’t move. Nor did the woman seem to notice his tender touch.

_“We remember. We have not forgotten. We cannot forget. Never.”_

Vader frowned behind his mask. “Remember what?” he asked harshly.

The boy didn’t answer, but it seemed the woman had noticed Vader at last.

She looked up. When her dark eyes focused on his mask, her features drew back, all trace of softness instantly draining from her face.  Ice cold tears stained her cheeks, frozen to her skin. She looked as pale as a corpse. But her dark eyes glinted in sharp contrast to her white skin.

“ _You_!” she snarled. There was not a trace of fear on her face, just raw fury. Laying the man’s head gently down on the snow, she stiffly rose to her feet. Though it made little difference to him, he still looked down on her.

“You did this!” she repeated, daring to point an angry finger up at _him._ “This is all your fault!” she indicated the man lying dead between them.” Tell me this _father,”_ she spat, “haven’t you tormented me enough?”

 _Father?_ Vader stiffened slightly at the unfamiliar address. He took a second more thorough look at the old woman. She looked strangely familiar. Something about the stubborn tilt to her chin, her deep brown eyes, made it click within his mind. The princess. Old and worn now, eyes that had once burned fiercely looked dull and empty. But his gaze was drawn to the lightsaber she clutched in her grip, its hilt shining silver. He knew that hilt, its design, the feel of it in his grip. He had thought it lost. Odd that she of all people should have it.

“He had to die,” she stated, “He had to die because he was already dead. But you!” She shook the unlit saber at him. “You are the one that’s truly to blame. _You_ did this. All of it!”

Ignoring her tirade, he turned towards his young companion. “Why have you brought me here?” he asked in a drawl, pointing a finger down at the aging princess. “ _She_ is nothing to me.”

The old princess looked around in confusion, as the young boy shook his head sadly. _“Your heart already knows the answer you mind refuses to acknowledge. Search your feelings and you will know the truth.”_

Truth? What truth? Vader stared absently down at the old woman again, she was practically shaking with fury at him now. Her previously dull eyes blazing raw hatred so intense that for an instance even he was surprised by it. By the fierceness of her posture. Though he could snap her like a twig easily enough.

The apparition shook its head again, a blond lock falling into his young face. “ _Once she was everything to you. Her and her mother.”_

He frowned at the implication. The impossibility. “There was only one!” he exclaimed, his throat suddenly very dry. “And he is ash!” The last word came out to harshly. Almost like a shout.

Startled the old princess dared to glance behind her, at whomever he was shouting at. But he could see by her expression she saw nothing. No one.

Dark amber eyes returned their focus to him instead. And he saw _her_ again. This time not on his son’s face, but on the woman’s proudly titled chin, her flashing dark eyes. _Father,_ she had called him. No, it could not be. It was impossible.

Yet somehow, he knew it wasn’t.

“A _daughter_ ,” he said, and as he spoke the words, he knew them for truth. Elation spread though him. In reality she still lived somewhere, did she not? This other child of his. And all he had to do was find her! Then he would have his vengeance at last. Her power would be his, it would all be _his._

The boy began to weep. Childlike now. The old princess stared up at Vader as if he was mad. Then to his surprise, she ignited the saber and lifted her blade to strike. Instinctively he lifted his own in response, deflecting her silly blow hard enough to send the saber flying from her grip. It landed beneath a tree, the hilt buried deeply in the snow.

Eager he reached forward to grab her. To his surprise she came for him, unarmed, teeth bared, her hands like claws. The crazed phantom was going to try to rip him apart with her bare hands? She was insane. Yet… determined and strong. All useful traits, he thought with satisfaction as he caught her slim, trembling wrists with triumph. But it was a short-lived triumph, because as soon as he touched her, she dissolved.  Turning into a cloud of black ash that spread across the red coloured snow. The body of the other man nowhere to be seen.

Instantly the world around Vader went black. The endless dark sky swallowing him hole as he tumbled forward into inky black darkness

“No!” he roared as he rushed forward into nothing. The echo that hit him deafening. Then he was standing on sand. The world around him now hot and unforgiving. Yet it was dark. No sun. No moon. No stars. Only a single red blinking display lit up a bunk. And beneath it, the blood coloured sand.

Only a cot, darkness in every direction, as far as the eye could see. Blinding him to all but the body. His throat closed as he stared down at it. For it wasn’t the boy as he had expected. In the place where he had once lain, lay a different body. _Hers._ Padme’s dead body. Limp and lifeless.  Laid out for burial. As beautiful as she had been in life. Yet empty. Dead. As dead as the boy. As dead as their _child._

Her blue dress pooled around her like water. Like an endless ocean. The train of the long dress lay draped across the blood, at his feet. Vader drew a ragged breath. A pressure tightened in his chest. He staggered back a step, not prepared for the intensity of the illusion.

She looked real, lifelike. Peaceful, as if she was just sleeping, and would wake any moment, if he only reached out and touched her, nudged her awake.  Her hands rested on her full belly, as if only moments before she had been rubbing it gently, love shining in her eyes. Love for him, for their unborn child.  

No. He shook his head. Their unborn _children._

Taking a small almost unwilling step forward, he stared down at her with a longing he dared not name. It ached, to remember. But lifting one unsteady hand, he felt nothing as he trailed his fingers across a cheek he knew was as cold as the grave. She would not wake, not ever again. She would never again stretch sleepily and offer him one of her gentle smiles.

A thin young voice spoke, from the surrounding darkness. A silent whisper penetrating into his very soul.

“Our Angel is dead. _We_ killed her.”   

Vader snatched his hand away, taking another step back; heart pounding. _No. Just no._

The boy reappeared, emerging from the shadows on the other side of the cot. Clutched in one small hand he held the japor snippet.  By now its childlike markings had faded to nothing more than dull scratches. As faint and weak as the boy that had once carved them.

Vader looked away from the small trinket and down at her face. Once so long ago he had told her, that it would bring her good fortune. But all it had brought her in the end, was devastation, death, betrayal. _His_ betrayal. His chest seized. The endless, bottomless pain once again hitting him full force. For it was still there. Always. Even after all these years.

As he watched the boy reached out small hand towards Padme, and did what Vader could not, trailed a human finger across human skin. If Vader closed his eyes, he could almost feel it. Beyond the pain, beyond the numbness, and the grief. The softness of her skin. The burning undying love he had felt for her, every time he had looked at her.

The boy’s blue eyes rose to meet his. Lifting a hand, he opened the small clenched fist that held the snippet. But it didn’t fall onto the sand. Instead it floated in the air, moving above Padme’s body until it reached him. He snatched it, crushing it in a harsh grip. Wanting, needing to break into pieces, just like the empty promise that it was. But no matter how hard he clenched, it refused to shatter.

The boy only stared at him, unblinking. Until Vader looked away, closing his eyes, reaching into the nothingness for the fury that would keep him going. Within him, the love he had once felt was only flames, all consuming. Devouring everything and everyone in its path.

The boy said nothing more. There was nothing more to say. So, they stood together in silence for a while. When Vader opened his eyes again, he was once again back in his meditation chamber. The familiar sounds of the ship humming in the background, the feel of the life of his crew all around him. As the light clicked on, he opened his tightly clenched fist. Finding it contained ash.

Only ash.


End file.
